


Past imperfect, future indicative, present uncertain.

by nimrod262



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BSAA NAB, Deuce of Hearts, Finnenson, Foxes, M/M, Nivanfield, Nivanfield writing, One Shot, The Future, The Past, the present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 02:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21091661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimrod262/pseuds/nimrod262
Summary: In the here and now, Chris Redfield is thinking about his future, so he decides it’s best to let go of the past; but will it let go of him? Cue one Piers Nivans.





	Past imperfect, future indicative, present uncertain.

**Author's Note:**

> Set in my usual AU. It’s 2022, when Chris and Piers face retirement after the BSAA NAB has been closed down by Presidential tweet. There’s mention of Finn Macauley and his partner Danny Svenson setting up a Medical Rehabilitation Center using the old BSAA base hospital, part of the over-arching storyline.

****December, 2022: 

Outside the Deuce of Hearts, the ground was hard, frozen in the cold night air. The pale moonlight reflected off the myriad of tiny ice crystals that were rapidly forming on grass and earth. All was still, except for the occasional bark of a lonely Dog Fox seeking a mate in the woods. But inside … inside the house, a storm was brewing.

Chris had showered first, alone, on the pretext that he could warm the bed whilst Piers took his shower. Well, that’s what he’d said. In reality it was to get another ten minutes by himself, ten minutes more time to think, like he hadn’t thought of anything else the whole week. What had started as the seed of an idea had grown and grown until now it was hammering to get out of his head …

He scowled at the bedside clock. Ten pm. As good a time as any. Not that there would ever be a good time. He knew he was already backsliding, looking for excuses not to. And he hadn’t even said anything yet.

‘Now Redfield!’ he ordered himself.

It was finally time to act, he resolved. Right or wrong, he’d made his decision. No use in putting it off any longer. He sighed deeply. Actually, it was more of a low growl. He got out of the lonely, warmed, bed and strode purposefully from the room through their walk-through closet to the adjacent wet room.

The sight that met him stirred his heavy heart. So familiar, yet always like the very first time, fresh and new. That beautiful bubble-butt, so pale now in its wetness, contrasting with the golden-hued limbs. The waterfall of foam coruscating down the muscled back, channeling through the complex curves of the coccyx and washing over those exquisitely contoured cheeks.

It gave Chris some much needed confidence. Stiffening his already weakening resolve, and, albeit briefly, his manhood too. But Chris knew it wasn’t physical gratification he needed, however tempting. Not this time. What he did need was clarity of mind and purpose. And if he couldn’t find it in his own muddled and conflicted thoughts; he knew someone who would.

“You gonna’ be much longer Ace?” Chris enquired impatiently. There was no reply.

“Piers!” A shout now. No longer just impatient, but what? Anxious, verging on panic?

Piers Nivans couldn’t hear Chris over the sound of the pulsing shower, set to massage. Nevertheless, his sniper-honed senses told him someone was looking at him. It could only be one person. He turned around and smiled.

“Won’t be long Babe.” he mouthed.

“Good.” Chris muttered in relief as he returned to the bedroom alone.

“Here I am …” Piers announced as he padded softly into the room a short while later. He let the lavender-blue towel drop provocatively as he stood before the large bed with the large man in it.

“… fancy some Woof?”

“No. Just come and get warm.” Chris replied grumpily as he pulled the coverlet down, signaling Piers to get in alongside him.

“Ok. How 'bout some frottage then?” Piers read the signs. He was on alert now, treading carefully.

“Later.”

“Oh, alright. Perhaps a kiss to be getting on with?” He was trying hard not to step on a twig.

“Piers!” the large twig snapped.

“What?”

“Enough with the questions. Just hold me.”

“Of course. Front or back?”

“Front. I want to lay my head on your chest for a change.”

Piers tried to enfold as much of his partner’s torso as he could manage. He kissed the top of Chris’ head gently. The untidy brown hair, long flecked with gray, felt damp. And it smelt of sweat. It was not a good sign. “How’s that Babe?”

“Tighter please.”

“Like this?” Pier increased his pressure. For anyone else, it might have been painful; but not for Chris Redfield. Not when he needed holding.

“That’s a bit better, um, thanks.”

“You Ok?” a vague, non-confrontational question, always the best in these circumstances.

“I am now … ” a pause, then, “Piers …?”

“Yes Babe?”

“… don’t let go, not tonight.” It was almost a plea.

“I won’t Chris, not tonight, not ever. You know that.”

Piers could feel the tension in his partner’s trembling body; and now his own mind was racing. There hadn’t been one in such a while he thought. A PTSD episode, anxiety attack, black mood; whatever you cared to call them. Whatever the cause, Piers knew from experience that the best thing to do right now was exactly what Chris asked. The answers would come later.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just …”

It was testimony to Piers’ love and care for Chris that such events had become increasingly rare. And it was also testimony to Chris’ own self-recovery under that love and care. But tonight … tonight Chris was plagued by self-doubt rather than self-help. He’d tried to stop it, done his best not to let Piers see it building up over the past week. But now it was decision time. Time to start a new future together, outside the BSAA. That wasn’t the issue though; at least he didn’t think so. No, the future wasn’t the problem at all. It was the past, always Chris’ nemesis. He knew himself well enough to know it. It had been ever since the day his parents had died.

“… it’s just, Gah!”

He felt himself tearing-up at the still painful recollection; it was never far away, waiting to betray his image as the self-assured 'Captain Redfield’. Not so much a chink in his carefully constructed persona, more a gaping hole. So now, safe in Piers’ close embrace, he made his first decision. To let go, and let the tears flow …

“Hey, Baby! Hush now. Why the tears? What’s the matter?”

“Just let me cry it out Piers.”

“Cry what out?”

“More questions!”

“We share things, remember? The bad …” Piers kissed him again. “… as well as the good. So I’ll ask again, cry what out?”

“The past.”

“That’s too many tears Babe. I won’t let you.”

“I need to let it go Piers, it’s too much baggage. We’re starting afresh. I want a clean slate, for you, and for me.”

Piers thought quickly, this could be the opening he’d been looking for. Chris was now using sentences, not monosyllables. Piers made his pitch.

“I, I think you’re wrong Babe. We are what we are. We’re defined by our past. The two of us, Sword and Shield. That’s how we’ve got to be where we are now. Right?”

“S'pose.”

“And that’s why we have a future. It’s brought us to this point. You can’t simply forget, or deny it. I know I always say we shouldn’t look back on the road we’ve taken. That’s to protect you, from anxiety, from times like this. But we can’t really ignore it, however much we may want to.”

“I can try.”

“No, don’t. It’s undeniably still a part of us. It made us what we are. Personally, I’m very proud of my past. It’s not something I want to forget. Surely you are too?”

“But it’s so bad.”

“No, not all of it. In fact, some of it is very good, outstanding even.”

“Such as?”

“Well, take Claire for a start …”

“She’d have done better under Mom and Dad’s care!”

“… Are you sure? I don’t think she’d agree with you. I think she’d say you did a remarkable job of raising her in the most difficult of circumstances. Like you have done throughout your whole life.”

“My life, hah! What about all those other lives Piers? The one’s lost along the way.”

“You’ve borne every loss Babe. It’s made you stronger. Those souls live on in your courage, in your humanity. They don’t make you a lesser man, they make you a better man.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

“I wish I had your confidence Piers, your conviction.”

“Then lean on me, share mine. That’s why I’m here, you know that.” Piers tightened his embrace again.

Sad brown eyes looked up into sparkling hazel. “Does that make me weak then? Has 'Captain Redfield’ always been a facade, a sham? Or just my own self-conceit?”

“No. It makes you human. Yes, weak and frail at times, but strong and brave at others. You couldn’t be anything else, you shouldn’t be anything else.”

“How do you mean?”

“All those you’ve fought against, Wesker, Radames, Muller, to name just a few. They all thought they were better than humanity. They thought they could be godlike, even be gods themselves. That was never in their gift, it was evil. You fought against them, and prevailed, yet you never sought to be a god yourself. You kept your humanity. That’s a past to be proud of, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, so much could have been different. I should have handled things better.”

“Could, should’ve, if, but, maybe. Any conjecture now is purely hypothetical. Not to mention futile. The past is what it is, past. Accept it. I think this is all just nerves. You’re getting worried about the future … our future.”

“No, it’s not the future. That’s good. With you it will be unbelievably good. It’s right now, the transition, from past to future. I so want that clean slate, for both of us. How much of that past should I let go of? Some? All? Is that wrong? I, we, we’re re, retire … Gah! See? I can’t even bring myself to say the damn word.”

“And there you have it.”

“What?”

“The R word. You’ve always been afraid to use it.”

“Not afraid.”

“Oh, you’ve masked it, with your customary bluster, and anger too on occasion. But deep down I believe you fear it. Because you think it makes you look weak, old, incapable …”

“Don’t Piers! Stop it!”

“See?”

“I hate your logic sometimes, you know that?”

“Heh, heh. Good, channel that anger Babe. At least it’s made you stop crying.”

“No, you’ve done that. How do you always know what to say?”

“I know this. It’s not retirement in any case. The NAB is ending, sure, by Presidential tweet. You don’t retire from something like that, it’s more like being made unemployed.”

“Thanks!”

“Well, call it a transition then, moving from one phase of your life to another.”

“That sounds better, just.” Chris said grudgingly.

Piers smiled. “Your welcome. What I mean is, it’s not your fault, the circumstances.”

“So?”

“What?”

“So why do I feel like we need to make a clean break?”

“Cos’ you see still see life as black and white, a series of challenges to be fought and won. Now you’re going to retire …”

“Hey!”

“Sorry! Now your _transitioning_ between jobs, you wanted to concentrate on the new one. Well, as we’ve just discussed, the old one hasn’t gone away. You’ve gotta’ learn to multi-task, like a sniper”

“I don’t have your coping skills Piers, I’ve never had them.”

“Don’t sell yourself short!”

“It’s like one of those video games.”

“Huh?”

“You know, where you kill all the Zombies, find the hidden keys then go up a level. Next kill all the BOWs, unlock the secret doors, and so on. More monsters, more levels, until you reach the final level. One on one with the crazed lunatic. It get’s harder each time.”

“You’re a pretty good player, the best.”

“Yeah? I’ve got a bunch of bad memories and scars that say different. Jeez, I could write a book!”

“Perhaps you will one day. But you’ve er, aced that old game. There’s a new game to play now. New goals, different challenges. Lots of excitement to come, but hopefully less stressful! And besides, you can still play the old one if you really want.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, the BSAA is still continuing elsewhere around the world for now. You can continue to be an active founder member and play a valuable consultative role. Unless, of course, you want to give all that up too? Something else from your 'Oh so terrible’ past. Do you want to?”

“No, not really, though I wouldn’t mind some help. Ex-Directors count for a lot too.”

“You didn’t need to ask. And then there’s this Joint Service Medical Rehabilitation Center that Finn and Danny want to create using the old BSAA hospital here. Your role in setting-up their foundation status with the military and industry is crucial.”

“I’d do anything for those two after all they’ve gone through. It’s such a helluva scheme. We can’t loose all the bioterrorism medical expertise we built up in the NAB.”

“So, that past, the one that you’re trying to forget. It’s not letting go of you any time soon, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“The world’s a better place for what you’ve achieved Babe. Outbreaks at a record low, organized bioterrorism defeated. It’s manageable. You did that.”

“No, we _all_ did. Dee, Jill, all our boys and girls.”

“And now the future beckons. A new year, new horizons.”

“Guess so, felling trees, fishing fish, safer than BOWs and Zombies, but not quite as much fun.”

“Then we’ll make it fun, the two of us.”

“I’d like that.”

“So no more tears then? Remember, we do things together Babe. No need to 'suck it up’ on your own …”

“So we both suck? Ha!”

“Heh, heh! My Bear is back to normal, making jokes. You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks Piers. I’m sorry I was grumpy, you know, before.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s what I’m here for. Still want me to hold you?”

“Yes please … sometimes … I dunno’ … sometimes I just want to be held by you, for ever and ever.”

“That’s Ok.”

“It is?”

“Yeh, cos’ sometimes that’s all I want to do too.”

Inside the house, all was quiet now. The two men slept contentedly in each other’s arms. The storm had no sooner come than it had gone. Shortly it would become just one more distant memory amongst so many others. Outside the fox barked once again and heard a nearby cry in response. It barked in greeting, then looked back at the single track of paw prints it had left behind in the frosted blades of meadow grass. Soon they would be joined by another.


End file.
